


"That bad boy"

by eyeslikerain



Category: Secret History - Donna Tartt
Genre: Kissing, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension, coming to terms with your sexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 19:19:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11042619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyeslikerain/pseuds/eyeslikerain
Summary: "Call me Olivia, dear. You give that bad boy a kiss for me and tell him to call me on Sunday."





	"That bad boy"

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry my fics tumble in here in no apparent order at all - whenever the Muse starts to sing, I just have to write it down.  
> Unfortunately, most of my texts cannot be read as a series.  
> This one might have taken place shortly after winter break.

„By the way, when I called your mother, she told me to give you a kiss for her.“  
“Go ahead, I am all yours.”  
Francis took a step towards me and offered me his cheek.  
It was a cozy, warm evening in Charles’s and Camilla’s kitchen. Outside, the snow was still falling, but we were enveloped in warmth, light and the promising smell of the roast in the oven to which Charles attended presently, holding the oven door open with a towel. Camilla, who was chopping some herbs, giggled when I leaned in to give Francis a small kiss. I hadn’t expected him to take me literally and was rather surprised – at myself as well as at him.  
“Hm, not bad, but my mother kisses differently. More like that…”  
With that, he leaned forward and kissed the air next to my cheek with an exaggerated smacking noise, not touching me at all.  
“Does your mother kiss like you just did?”, he asked.  
I was flustered. Here they were, all with a loving and safe family in the background, and I couldn’t even remember when my mother had kissed me for the last time. I just decided to say so, which brought me a sympathetic and surprised “Really?” from Camilla.  
“Well, thank god it wasn’t my grandmother you had on the phone,” Francis continued.” She kisses like that – “  
He came awfully close and sloshed a wet, slobbering kiss on my cheek. I cried and tried to push him away, but he came even closer, putting his hands on my back and pulling me towards himself.  
“Stop it! That’s horrible!”  
I tried to escape what felt like the assault of an over-enthusiastic large dog. Camilla and Charles buckled over with laughter. Francis laughed also while he got out a clean, pressed handkerchief from his jacket and dapped at my cheek.  
“Sorry, Richard. But she really does. When I was little, I used to hide inside the hanging coats whenever she left to avoid this sort of farewell. And always, always she saw my feet underneath them and dragged me out for a goodbye kiss.”  
I touched my cheek. Giddily giggling, having all had a little too much champagne already, everybody returned to their tasks. Francis continued to wash some salad, stating that his family just enjoyed to kiss, when I asked, fuelled by the relaxed, flirtatious atmosphere:  
“And how do you kiss?”  
He jerked his head and regarded me quite surprised, but amused.  
“I can’t show you now because I need both hands for that. Besides, modesty forbids to demonstrate it in public as you might get… a little… breathless.”  
“Now, François, keep it low, your skills are not that advanced”, Charles snorted.  
“Charles!”, gasped Camilla. Francis shot him an offended look. I almost didn’t notice as Francis’s promises slowly trickled into my brain. My knees suddenly turned weak and I steadied myself on the counter. All my courage had left me.  
“Now, Camilla, how does your Nana kiss?”, Francis asked, elegantly turning the attention away from him.  
“Actually, not too often, but when she does…” Camilla’s voice trailed away while I made my way to the living room. I collapsed into a comfy chair, glad to have reached it as long as my legs obeyed. I didn’t know if I felt so confused because of the alcohol or Francis’s lips.  
A few minutes later, he entered the room behind me and put a light, warm hand onto my shoulder without a word. I didn’t look up at him, and, to my utter disappointment, he removed his hand after a few seconds. But his touch burned long afterwards.

 

After dinner, Francis offered to drive Bunny and me home. Bunny was quite sloshed and already toppled over in the backseat on the short drive to his dorm.  
“Are you sure you can make it inside on your own?”, I asked when he fumbled with the door.  
“Of course, of course, old sport. Never felt better.” With that, he clumsily got out and swayed on the snowy ground. “G’d night, deerslayers”, he muttered. Francis watched him totter unsteadily to the well lit entrance before he drove on.  
At Monmouth House, he didn’t drive to the curb where he usually dropped me off but continued onto the empty faculty parking lot. He eased the car into a dark corner and cut the engine.  
“What…”  
I looked at him. The sudden silence expanded between us. The cooling motor ticked away softly. Snowflake after snowflake settled on the windshield, creating a delicate, lacey web and soon blocking the sight. He turned slowly in his seat and asked:  
“Do you still want to know how I kiss?”

**Author's Note:**

> eyeslikerain.tumblr.com


End file.
